


Art of Persuasion

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: Bruce has something on his mind, should he be worried or can Superman help?





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 1  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiterose  
RATING: Anyone  
WORD COUNT: 3,162  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce has something on his mind, should he be worried or can Superman help?  
Author's note: Mention of events in Smallville Season 1 episode 'Hug'.

~B~

He was standing in the middle of the old gallery, in a usually closed part of Wayne Manor. He studied the piece of artwork with a critical eye. He walked around it. He studied it. He squinted at it. He shook his head and then left the room. 

He went downstairs. He went to the parlour, he opened the door, and he told Alfred, “I’m heading out.” 

Then he went downstairs. He got changed, double checked his utility belt. 

Then he headed out.

~*~

A few hours later, Batman was standing on the edge of a rooftop. The moon was high in the clear cloudless sky.

His mind had returned to the gallery again, when he felt the change of air around him. He glanced up as the Kryptonian hero stepped out of the air, and set his red booted foot on the rooftop. Absentmindedly, the dark vigilante said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” The Kryptonian replied.

“What’s up?” he asked. He wondered briefly if his fellow hero needed his help on a case.

Superman flashed a pearly white smile at him. “I actually wondered that myself.”

“Huh?” he replied eloquently.

His reply was met with a little chuckle. “That’s what I mean. You’ve been standing on this same rooftop for two hours.”

Batman narrowed his eyes, he asked, “You’ve been spying on me?”

Superman’s eyes widened, and then he snorted, “Yeah right.”

“So how do you know what I’ve been doing?”

“Paranoia isn’t very attractive.” Superman taunted.

“Ha-ha.”

Superman laughed, and explained, “I was patrolling up there.” he pointed up, and waggled his finger. “I noticed you down here. Then I went to a landslide in Manila…”

“You’re very clean…” he noticed.

His friend frowned, and then said exasperatedly, “I didn’t get that dirty, and even if I did, I wasn’t going to fly around until the mud dried in.”

“Obviously…” 

Superman eyed him strangely, and then said, “As I was saying, when I got back you were still standing right here.”

He glanced around the rooftop, and realised Superman was right. Batman grumbled, “I’ve just got something on my mind.”

“Just one thing, that’s a first.”

He rolled his eyes, and then suggested, “You’re right, I’m useless out here tonight, you want to come back for some supper?”

He watched as Superman glanced away and squinted towards an out of sight point on the horizon, and Batman wondered, “What are you doing?”

“Checking the time.” he replied distractedly.

He realised the Kryptonian was using both his x-ray and telescopic vision to see the clock tower a few blocks away. Superman turned back and recognised the understanding in his eyes, and shrugged, “I don’t have a watch when I’m Superman and you don’t have one in your belt.”

He conceded, “Maybe I should.”

Superman agreed playfully, “Maybe you should.”

He shook his head, “Are you having your supper or not?”

“Alfred’s in bed at this time, isn’t he?”

“You know that he always leaves me something.”

“Okay.” He agreed with appeasement.

“Okay.”

~*~

After returning home, he got changed out of his uniform. 

Bruce sat down at the kitchen table and shared his supper with his now casually dressed friend. They enjoyed his British butler’s version of chicken and dumplings. It was as if Alfred had known a country boy was going to be sharing his supper tonight. They chatted as they ate, talking between bites. Bruce asked, “That landslide you mentioned, not too serious I hope.”

Clark wiggled his spoon in the air as he chewed on a piece of chicken. He watched the movement of his lips as he continued chewing. He swallowed and licked at his lips, “Mostly property damage.”

“That’s good.” He replied.

His friend raised a brow.

“I mean…” he began to explain what he actually meant by that.

Clark smiled, “I know.” He spooned up some gravy, and segued, “This is good you know.”

“I know.” He smiled in response.

“You seem better now, what was on your mind before?” he asked caringly.

Bruce sighed, “Nothing.” Clark frowned at his non answer, and Bruce added, “Nothing important, just…”

“Just…?” he probed gently.

He shook his head at the workings of his own mind. Then he revealed, “I bought a piece of contemporary art, and I don’t know if I like it.”

Clark’s eyes widened, and then he half snorted half coughed. “That’s it, that’s all?”

“I know it sounds odd but…”

“Odd, it doesn’t sound odd, or it wouldn’t unless you were Bruce Wayne and I was some vacuous date with a passing interest in art.”

“Exactly, and that’s why I can’t figure out why I wanted it.”

Clark chuckled, “I don’t know but don’t ask me about fine art. Give me a book and I’ll remember everything about an artist and his work but don’t ask me to decide if it’s worth buying.”

Bruce snorted at his candour, “I get that, studying things so I can spout the facts for my façade, but with no real interest in what I’m talking about is a regular occurrence for me.”

His friend shrugged, “I just know what I like and what I don’t.”

“Okay, come with me and see if you like this.” He suggested.

Clark gazed at his plate sorrowfully not wanting to leave his supper unfinished. Bruce smirked, “Warm it up when you get back.”

They left the kitchen and Bruce led Clark to the gallery. He turned on the lights and Clark whistled when he saw the hoard of paintings and sculptures. Bruce chuckled, “You like them?”

“There’s just a lot.”

“Huh-huh.” He began walking down the length of the room, and Clark followed him.

“So how many of these did you buy?”

“Just the one I’m showing you.”

“Never added to the collection yourself?”

“No, never been interested and that’s one of the things that’s bugging me about this piece I bought, it doesn’t even fit in up here.”

Finally, they came to the end of the gallery and he pointed at the object of concern. Clark approached the twisted but organic looking wooden design and eyed it warily. Bruce read his body language and asked, “What is it, what’s the matter?”

“I think I know what this is.”

That sentence put Bruce on alert. His body tensed ready and he asked, “Is it something dangerous, something alien…?”

Clark’s eyes darted to him, and then snorted, “No, nothing like that. I just think I know the artist.”

Bruce approached slowly, and asked, “You know the artist. I thought you said you had no interest in art?”

His friend smiled tightly, “I don’t; I just know the artist for other reasons.”

~*~

They returned to the kitchen. They sat down at the table. He watched his friend focus on his cold chicken and dumplings until seconds later, they were bubbling again as if it had just come out of the oven. 

“Nice trick.” He complimented.

Clark grinned, “You want yours warming up?”

He mirrored his smile, and nodded, “Not as hot as yours though.”

His friend superheated his food for him. They both returned to their supper as well as their conversation. Bruce asked, “So tell me about this artist.”

Clark nodded, “Kyle Tippet?”

“Yeah that’s him.”

“Yeah, I met him in Smallville.”

“You’ve told me about some of your experiences growing up there, what was this guy doing?”

“Hiding.” He said simply.

His eyes widened, “Hiding?”

“That’s right, after his power manifested he realised how dangerous it could be so he went and hid out in a trailer in the woods, and cut himself off from the world.”

“What was his power that scared him so much?”

“The power of persuasion. He could get anyone to do whatever he wanted.”

“That would indeed be an intoxicating and dangerous power to be let loose with.” Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “And you think he persuaded me to buy his sculpture?”

“It seems like it, you said you didn’t know why you bought it, that you wouldn’t’ve bought it.”

“So how does his power work?”

“Basically he shakes your hand, or touches you, gives you a suggestion, and you are impelled to satisfy that command, until you’ve done what he said.”

“I shook his hand when we were introduced.” He revealed.

Clark nodded along with his mouth full of dumpling this time. 

Bruce smirked, and asked, “So if he was hiding out, how did you find out he had this ability?”

His friend finished chewing. “Helped me stop a guy with the same power from doing a land grab in the town. The guy ‘persuaded’ my dad to sell our farm.”

“So he helped you, so he’s a friend?”

“Didn’t know him long enough to say that, but yeah we parted on good terms.” 

Clark snorted softly to some private joke.

Bruce asked, “What is it, what are you remembering?”

Clark smiled, “Just that, Kyle showed me his power by suggesting to my friend that she show her feelings for me.”

He understood straightaway. He raised a leering eyebrow.

His friend chuckled, “Yeah she kissed me, right on the lips.”

“That’s all?” he wondered.

“Bruce, we were fourteen at the time.” Clark admonished, and then thoughtfully he added, “Actually it was around that time I was shot for the first time too.”

“Lots of blood?” he joked.

Clark rolled his eyes, “Lots of bruises, semi-automatic.”

Bruce gazed at his friend and said lightly but with complete sincerity, “Thank goodness you were super.”

His friend pinched his lips, “Yeah or I’d be missing out on this delicious supper, don’t forget to tell Alfred I said so.” 

“You should tell him yourself, he’d like that.”

~*~

The following evening, a dapper suit wearing Bruce Wayne accompanied a cheaper suit wearing Clark Kent to the art exhibition where Bruce had procured the artwork in question. His friend had explained the particulars last night. Bruce had had the urge to go and knock on the artist’s door late last night or in the early hours as it actually was but Clark had suggested this course of action instead.

They walked around the exhibit, of carved wood sculptures. They weren’t bad, there were many things that the label of contemporary art was attached that most people wouldn’t give a dime for that were much worse. Yet after Clark’s explanation last night, his acquisition of one of the pieces made complete sense.

Finally, the artist made an appearance, he remembers shaking his hand and complimenting his work out of good manners two days ago. Bruce saw Clark take note of his entrance too. Clark adjusted his glasses, and then reflexively patted Bruce upper arm before leading him over to the stubble wearing man, you could say he was shabby chic but really, he looked like a man wearing a suit like someone who didn’t usually wear suits. The guy noticed them coming over, noticed Clark’s hand on his arm, his gaze focused mainly on Bruce though.

“Hello Mr Wayne, I hope you are enjoying your purchase.” The artist said politely.

“I wouldn’t say that Mr Tippet.” he said with an air of affability.

He saw the slight tightening of his frame, although he wasn’t on total alert, after all he didn’t know he was on to him. The artist let out a little snort, and then glanced at Clark. His brow creased a little, his subconscious obviously knew he was familiar but the years between their meetings and added to that Clark’s glasses were throwing him off. Then he held out his hand, “Hello, I’m the artist Kyle Tippet.”

Clark's lips pinched slightly, understanding the same as Bruce and he took the offered hand, and introduced, “Hi, I’m Clark Kent.”

Kyle’s eyes widened with recognition, and Bruce watched as he tried to pull his hand away. Clark held firm and wouldn’t let go. Suddenly, Kyle relaxed and bowed his head. He snorted under his breath and then raised his face and met Clark’s gaze. With a fond smile on his lips, he said wryly, “Hello Clark.”

Clark smiled, and greeted him like his fourteen year old self, “Hi Mr Tippet.” He motioned with his head to Bruce, and then said seriously, “So I saw the sculpture you sold to my friend.”

The older man glanced between them, and winced, “Times are hard Clark, I thought your friend of all people could spare some loose change.”

In the great schemes of things, the price of the sculpture was peanuts to Bruce’s bank balance but… “I don’t appreciate being swindled.”

The artist nodded, and then was distracted, he glanced down at his and Clark’s still joined hands, “Come, and see me later, Clark, we’ll catch up. You and your boyfriend go and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a touch at the remark. Then he watched Kyle Tippet walk away. 

He felt Clark’s hand touching his arm again, and he turned to meet his friend’s gaze. He found Clark gazing at him with affection. Slightly uneasy, he watched as Clark’s lips turned up at the corners. Bruce breathed slowly and murmured, “Are you going to try to kiss me Clark?”

Clark gazed at him a long lingering moment, before his lips stretched into a smile. He replied coyly, “You’d be lucky.”

Bruce snorted, and with slight confusion he said, “Right… I just thought, with that boyfriend line, he might’ve put one of his subliminal commands into your mind.”

His friend chuckled softly, “Firstly his power works more directly than that, I’d have to get you to be my boyfriend before we could even enjoy the rest of the night. Secondly, his powers don’t work on me.”

“Lucky you.” he uttered.

Clark nodded, and then suggested, “Do you want to enjoy the rest of the evening with me anyway?”

Bruce frowned in response.

His friend smirked, “I saw a malt shop down the block.”

“You want to get a milkshake or something?” he asked a little disbelievingly.

Clark tilted his head, “I doubt you want to go to the bar across the street.”

Bruce stared at his friend, almost annoyed that he knew him so well, but also heartened that he did. “You’re right.”

“See, a milkshake is much nicer than a beer.”

He couldn’t help the fond smile that came to his lips. The idea of trying something different with his friend was kind of nice. “Let’s go then.”

~*~

At the counter, Clark loosened his tie, before wrapping his lips around his straw and sucking up some creamy goodness. Bruce stumbled over his own thoughts as those words took on a whole new slightly dirty meaning in his mind. He laughed softly and then leaned in and sucked at his own straw. He hummed at the strawberry hitting his tongue. He saw Clark glance up at him at the sound, and their eyes met. Clark let go of his straw and smiled, “Nice huh?”

He pulled away, and smiled and confirmed, “Yeah very nice.”

Bruce gazed at his glass, and then asked, “So what do you think he meant by coming to see him, do you think he’ll reimburse me.”

Clark smiled, “It’s been years since we saw each other and we did end on friendly terms… do you want me to get your money back?”

His brow creased at his friend, “The money isn’t an issue… You want me to let him keep the money?”

“I don’t know…” Clark sighed, “I just remember him living in that trailer hiding from the world and…”

“You feel sorry for him?”

“Like I said, the last time I saw him I had the impression he was going to try to do some good with his power, and the fact he’s cheating people doesn’t bode well for how his life has gone.”

He took a sip of his shake. Then he replied, “No, it doesn’t… but I don’t have to tell you, everyone isn’t as altruistic as you are…” Clark huffed slightly under his breath. Bruce smiled fondly, “When dealing with people of that kind of power, the best you can hope for is that they don’t use it for evil.”

His friend nodded along, “I know I’d rather stay out of everyone’s way than do something to hurt people.”

“You’re a good man Clark Kent.” He said earnestly.

Clark glanced at him, fluttered his eyelashes coyly, “I told you I’m not going to kiss you; no matter what compliments you throw at me.”

Bruce chuckled at his display. Clark flashed a grin, and then he returned to his milkshake. Bruce remembered Kyle Tippet drawing the wrong conclusion about them, and he commented, “I guess your old acquaintance didn’t notice my date the other night.”

“I’ll guess that she was hot.”

“Elizabeth is very good company.” He hummed.

Clark shrugged, and licked milkshake from his lips. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question. Then he saw Clark’s eyes stray to a good looking couple walking past holding hands, before Clark’s gaze returned to his shake, and he played with the straw absently. He confessed in a murmur, “It’s been a while.”

Clark’s decency combined with his every day persona would definitely impact his sex life. He felt it was a time for confession, in an attempt to make sure his friend didn’t feel bad. “Not every date of mine ends up in bed, you know.” 

His friend glanced at him briefly, and then his gaze found the young good looking couple again, who had found a booth. As the man glanced up, he noticed Clark watching him and his lady friend. For a moment, his eyes narrowed annoyed at the attention another man was giving them, but then slowly he blinked, breathed slowly, and then turned away, his attention returning to his girlfriend. Bruce’s own attention returned to his friend to see a small smile play briefly on his lips before disappearing, as he returned his focus to Bruce. 

Bruce chuckled, “He wouldn’t be breathing so easy if you used your confidence for once, and walked over there and swept his woman off her feet.”

Clark grinned, “He’s not the one who’d have to be worried about losing their date.”

His eyes widened at the remark, and he glanced back at the couple, studied them, two very good looking people, he wondered, “You think he’s hotter than her?”

He watched his friend colour a lovely shade of pink, before he shrugged, “Nicer ass.”

Bruce enjoyed the embarrassment coming off his friend, and told him playfully, “I’ll have to have a look when he stands up again.”

“You do that.” Clark told him. Then he deferred, “You want another milkshake?”

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 2  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiterose77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Anyone  
WORD COUNT: 2,566  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: There’s some testing times and shocking moments in store for the friends.

~*~

Bruce let himself in, and then closed the apartment door behind him. The outcome of Clark’s afterhours chat with his old acquaintance the artist Kyle Tippet wasn’t exactly preying on his mind. However, after parting ways with Clark last night, Bruce had wondered about what he was supposed to do with the sculpture that he had been persuaded to buy from Kyle Tippet. As he’d told his friend, the money wasn’t the problem; it was the idea of being hoodwinked that stuck in his craw. He wondered if Clark hadn’t had recognised Tippet’s work, if he’d have ever realised he’d been preyed upon. He liked to think he would have.

He checked the kitchen-lounge area, and saw there was no sign of life. He checked his watch. He’d have expected he’d be up and getting ready for work about now. He approached the bedroom door, and opened it a crack. He saw the sleeping figure of his friend still in bed. He murmured softly, “Too many milkshakes huh?”

Then he opened the door, and entered. He walked over to the bed. He noted the sleep made messy black hair, and the broad lightly tanned back uncovered, the sheet pooled around his waist, and one leg had escaped the bedclothes. He considered the fact his friend didn’t have to worry about cold in the winter, or overheating in the summer for that matter. Then he wondered what the sheets felt like next to Clark’s impervious skin, did the quality of the sheet make a difference to his comfort. Those questions had crossed his mind before but he hadn’t been in the position to put it to the test.

He smiled at the sleepyhead. 

The sheets being nice against his skin or not wasn’t keeping him from the land of Nod, as Alfred would put it. 

His curiosity piqued, Bruce approached the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and tested the feel of the sheet. Hmm not bad, not the highest quality but soft with many washes, Bruce himself had slept in much worse in his time. 

He could smell the freshness of the bedding. He could also smell the unique smell of warmth that radiated off his friend. He’d smelled it before. He’d noticed it when he first started teaming up with the Kryptonian hero, especially on a cold night on the rooftops of Gotham. He could understand the psychological comfort that warmth gave the people that his friend saves, safe and warm. 

He watched the tanned muscled back, saw the almost still but shallow movements of his breaths heaving his body. Bruce reached out again, and this time he ran his fingertips between his friend’s shoulder blades. In response, there was a soft huffing noise from his friend but he didn’t wake up.

Bruce nodded to himself, sensitive, but not enough to provoke a reflexive action. The tanned skin was warm and smooth, the muscles relaxed.

He reached out again, starting at the middle of his shoulder blades again, and he trailed his fingertip down Clark’s spine. The reaction was one of a cat, his friend’s body arched to follow his touch. 

Bruce was intrigued. 

He began again at the shoulder blades and trailed his finger again. This time as his finger touched the small of his friend’s back, Clark’s body continued to arch under the sheets. Bruce could tell Clark’s body subconsciously wanted him to continue his path downward. 

Unconsciously, Bruce licked his lips, but didn’t go further. 

A sound of unrest came from his sleepy friend, and then blindly Clark’s muscled arm reached out and his hand searched the bed, as if expecting to find a warm body next to him. Bruce was silent. He didn’t know what to do, so he stayed still and quiet. He briefly remembered Clark telling him last night that it had been a while since he’d had a bed partner. Bruce felt almost bad for unintentionally confusing Clark’s subconscious and making him think that someone special was with him.

At the silence, and the disappearance of the sensual touch, Clark turned onto his side, and looked and found him there at the same time. Clark stilled and drowsy eyes gazed at him in confusion recognising his presence, and then his gaze darted behind him to the empty side of the bed as if caught out. He stilled when he saw no-one and then his gaze returned to Bruce, he studied him and then said, “I could’ve sworn someone was touching me.”

Bruce watched as Clark ran his hand through his hair making it even messier. Then Bruce admitted, “Actually that was me.”

Baffled, Clark’s face contorted, and then he asked, “What… why?”

He shrugged, and told him the truth, “Experimenting.”

His friend’s bleary eyes widened, “Experimenting…?”

Bruce snorted at his disbelief, and explained further, “I was conducting an experiment, I saw you here, and I began wondering about your sensitivity and I…”

Clark grumbled, and flopped back on the bed, with his head against his pillow. “You could’ve waited until I woke up before experimenting on me.” he uttered sulkily.

He chuckled, “I wanted to see it, see your body respond, not to be told the information by you.”

His friend sighed, “Coffee.”

“Huh?”

Clark explained, “Put the coffee maker on, and I’ll get up.”

He nodded, “Okay…” he got up from the edge of the bed, and headed for the door, he turned back before he left and said, “Sorry I woke you up.”

He saw Clark’s gaze stray to the empty side of his bed, before he mumbled, “So am I.”

~*~

Bruce was waiting in the kitchen for the coffee to be ready, when Clark emerged from his bedroom. He wore jeans and an unfastened shirt, his strong chest in view, his hair was wet from the shower. Bruce commented, “Still waiting for the coffee.”

His friend nodded along, and came to a stop on the opposite side of the kitchen island. He leaned against it, and wondered, “So what’s the emergency?”

“No, emergency, just wondered what the verdict was about Kyle Tippet.”

Clark sighed softly, “He assured me, that he isn’t persuading everyone to buy his sculptures.”

“You mean he only targeted me.” he asked with some irritation.

“Reckons the price you paid will see him right for a long time.”

“So he’s not going to pay me back… Or didn’t you ask him, you did say you felt sorry for him.” He suggested knowing his friend so well.

Clark grimaced out a smile, “I did feel sorry for him. Listen if you want to have him arrested, I’ll back you up.”

He turned towards the coffeemaker as it clicked off. He shook his head and poured out two mugs of coffee. “The world is used to metahumans, but I have no proof that he used his power on me.”

“You are kind of flighty as well.” Clark remarked.

His gaze darted to Clark at that remark. Clark smiled, and shrugged, “Well Bruce Wayne is.”

He mirrored his shrug, and then passed Clark his mug of coffee. He concurred, “It wouldn’t be hard for people to think I just regretted my purchase, or I was drunk when I bought it. Not even our friends on the force could prove coercion.”

“Yeah, that’s the trouble.” Clark agreed.

It was very common with their callings, to be stymied, when you were certain but couldn’t prove a villain’s guilt. Bruce tensed his jaw at being cornered, and then harrumphed, and let it go. He sighed, “You better tell him, he’s in trouble if he does it again in my city.”

Clark sipped his coffee, and smiled into it, “Your city, or Batman’s city.”

He frowned at the question.

His friend explained, “I think that it’s better if I don’t threaten him on your behalf, after all as far as Kyle’s concerned you’re just my boyfriend.”

Bruce coughed almost choked on his mouthful coffee at that revelation. He put down his mug, and he asked, “You didn’t correct him; you didn’t put him straight about us?”

Clark chuckled at his reaction, and said, “What was the point?”

He stared at his friend, and actually couldn’t come up with a reason. Kyle Tippet didn’t really know them. They had no plans to get to know him better, so what was the point of correcting a misconception, apart from a knee jerk reaction to defend their friendship. 

Theirs was a friendship that didn’t need defending, a friendship that Bruce had grown to love, where all facades were dropped, and where public facades could actually be strengthened because of it. 

He smiled as he thought of the times where Superman had gone out of his way to bolster Batman’s image, especially in the halls of the Watchtower. Their teammates knew they were close, knew they were real friends outside of the job, but Clark had never revealed Bruce’s softer side to their teammates. He had insinuated that he was friends with him despite Batman’s gruff attitude. Thinking on it now, the insinuation probably promoted Superman’s image of being a goddamned saint, so it was a win-win situation.

He shrugged, and agreed, “I guess there wasn’t.”

Distractedly, Clark’s gaze found the toaster, he noticed. His friend said, “You’ll have to find a niche for that sculpture, I guess.”

Bruce sniggered softly. He turned and opened Clark’s bread box, and got a couple slices of bread out and popped them in the toaster. Then he met Clark’s gaze, who smiled in return at how in sync they were.

He answered the previous question, “I’ll have to, won’t I; after all I am the proud owner.”

“It’s made of wood isn’t it, so maybe you could find a place in one of those gardens you’ve got.” His friend suggested.

“Maybe.” He stated, as he picked up his coffee again and took another sip.

As they waited for the toaster, Bruce grumbled, “Probably would’ve been quicker to get you to toast the bread.”

“I thought your patience was one of your skills.” He taunted playfully.

He rolled his eyes, “When it comes to crime fighting, I’m playing the long game, but…”

“But…?” he poked.

“But when there’s an alternative, I like the easiest route.”

Clark grinned and teased, “I’ll remember that the next time there’s a crisis.”

Bruce glared at his friend reproachfully, but then jumped out of his skin as the toaster popped up. His friend laughed, and Bruce shook his head, and then snorted. He reached for the warm toasted bread and smiled, “You want jam on this as well or just butter.”

~*~

It was the next crisis, each of the Justice League fought an enemy, although now and again a villain would take a pot shot at someone who happened by. His attention was on Bane as his teammates fought the rest of Injustice. Finally, after being thrown against a wall once too often, Batman summoned up enough strength to make a run and a leap, and managed to sever the pipes that delivered the venom into Bane’s body. He watched panting as the juice drained off, and Bane sagged into pitiful sight.

Batman glanced around and saw his teammates fights wind down and come to an end. He watched Flash speed and stop at each of his teammates, giving them each the special type of handcuffs they needed for each of their criminals. He noticed some heroes had lost their villain, probably escaped, ready to come back and fight another day. 

He stilled and then he took another look around. He licked suddenly dry lips. He asked, “Where’s Superman?”

The rest of the team continued what they were doing. He didn’t know if they hadn’t heard him, or if they had blanked him. He raised his voice, and asked again, “What happened to Superman?”

This time everyone glanced up and around at him. He saw faces confused, and wondering too, and he saw faces obviously wondering, ‘what the hell was he overreacting about this time?’ 

Wonder Woman spoke up, “He was fighting that beast Grundy, but I didn’t see what happened.”

Batman scanned the room, and then Flash stopped next to a heap on the floor, “Well Grundy is right here, spark out.”

With annoyance mixed with dread, he growled, “What the fuck happened to Superman?”

Suddenly there was a loud whistle, and everyone followed the sound and looked up. From the hole in the ceiling, Superman gazed down at them. He waved, “Hi, did anyone miss me?”

Everyone sighed, and chuckled in relief. Then they began hefting up and leading out the bad guys. Batman let Wonder Woman lead Bane out of the crime den. He watched as Superman floating down towards him. He grumbled, “Where the hell were you?”

The Kryptonian folded his arms across his chest, tilted his head, and said, “Well after I’d knocked Grundy out, I just went and sat up there and watched the show, you know it takes a while for everyone else to catch up.”

Batman narrowed his gaze, and then glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, that wasn’t there before the fight. Superman whistled through his teeth and shook his head, “I guess nobody else noticed the missile?”

His brow creased further though the cowl hid the fact, he really hadn’t seen a missile. 

Knowingly, Superman smiled with amusement, he shrugged, “Just a little one really, probably would’ve only taken out a city block.”

Finally, Batman smiled, “Well those people should be grateful that you’re watching their backs.”

“I’m lucky you’re watching mine too.” He uttered.

He tilted his head in question.

His teammate leaned in conspiratorially, “I heard how worried you were about me.”

He chuckled a little embarrassed, and allowed, “You’re a bit hard to replace on the team.”

Superman pursed his lips and sniggered.

Batman shook his head with affection, and reflexively pressed forward and he kissed his friend full on the mouth. 

As soon as the action was complete, he froze, his lips still pressed to Superman’s. His friend looked just as shocked as Batman felt. Carefully, he released his lips. They stared at each other incredulously. Batman didn’t know what to say. He swallowed hard. He saw Superman’s eyes follow the movement of his jaw, and then his eyes focused on Batman’s lips. As if a magnet was impelling them, they both seemed to sway forward. Their lips were a breath away from each other, when there was a groan from the heap of grey flesh, it startled them apart, and they stepped back a pace. Wonder Woman returned to haul Grundy out of the place. 

She looked over to them and then asked, “What are you two doing, are you staying here?”

Superman shook his head, and smiled, “We’re on our way.”

He glanced back at Batman, and Batman gave him an affectionate grimace in return. Superman reached out, and patted Batman’s shoulder and motioned with his head, “Come on.”

The incident had unbalanced him a bit, but it didn’t change what they were here to do; or his friendship with his friend. They exited the crime den together.

 

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 3  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiterose77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,688  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce tries to make sense of what happened between him and Clark.

~*~

It was later in the day, after returning home and updating his file, he went upstairs to change into some casual clothes. Usually after a day like today, he took the rest of the day to unwind and clear his mind. In the early years, he used to meditate for that purpose. He still uses the techniques during his fights, to keep his focus, but as the years had gone on, his relaxation methods had become more… comfy. Hanging out, relaxing with a friend was the best tonic, especially a friend who understood you and your approach to life. 

As he thought about his friend, wondering if he was available, his mind returned to the incident at the crime den. He wasn’t sure where that kiss had come from. Yes, he’d been relieved that Clark was safe, and not dead or sucked into another dimension or another era but was that any excuse. He remembered the softness of Clark’s lips pressed unmoving against his. His friend had been just as shocked at his actions as he had, but Clark hadn’t made a big deal of it. Actually, he hadn’t really had chance to, as they’d been busy afterwards, but Clark hadn’t been totally freaked out by it. 

His mind flashed to the seconds after when for one crazy second, it seemed they were going to throw themselves into it again or that’s the way it had seemed to him. If it hadn’t have been for Grundy and Diana, they might’ve. He thought about what would’ve happened if they’d done it and then been caught out by their teammates. How would they reconcile that with their view of Batman and Superman if they thought they were lovers, boyfriends?

Boyfriends… he remembered Kyle Tippet, and he recalled that line about them being boyfriends. Clark denied that Tippet’s powers could affect him. But wait, it was he who kissed Clark, not the other way around. If anyone was under the influence it would be him, except, Clark said Tippet’s powers only worked with touch, and Tippet hadn’t touched him when he said it. But what if Clark was wrong, he said he only knew him for a few days, years ago, maybe he didn’t know everything about his powers.

It was something to consider.

Yet, the kiss wasn’t even that noteworthy, there was no tingles, no hearts jumping a beat, or the awakening of any other way of thinking of his best friend. 

He came to the conclusion that there was nothing to beat himself up about.

~*~

After he got changed into some casual clothes, a dark grey t-shirt and jeans, he headed for the back of the house as he usually did. Although he spent a lot time in the cave, it was good manners to show his face, and keep Alfred up to speed on his whereabouts. As he approached, he heard voices coming from the kitchen and he followed them to their source.

Alfred was saying, “I am not sure myself, the delivery man just arrived with it.”

“So Bruce ordered it?” the young man asked.

“I should say so Master Richard.”

“Why would he do that, it’s not as if I’m a kid.” Dick wondered.

Bruce realised what the topic of conversation was, he entered revealing, “I bought it for me and Clar…” he stopped in his tracks as he saw the visitor that was making himself at home in the kitchen.

Alfred and Dick appeared incredulous, but a big grin spread across Clark’s face. He motioned to the milkshake maker, “I told you they were nice.”

He shook his head at Clark’s gloating expression, but confirmed, “You were right.”

He turned and saw the other two men, still gazing at him with confusion. Bruce asked defensively, “What…?”

Alfred rolled his eyes gently and turned away saying in put-upon tone, “I’ll have to find a spot for it.”

Dick’s lips turned up until a smile stretched his face. He nodded along, but said casually, “I can’t patrol tonight, I’ve got the nightshift.”

Clark said wryly, “Another kind of patrol then?”

Officer Grayson chuckled, “You could say that. Bye Clark, catch you later Bruce.”

Bruce nodded along, he waited until his crime fighting partner had left before he met Clark’s gaze again. He began, “I’m…”

“Taking the rest of the day off.” Clark finished for him, “I know you always do after a day like today.”

He smiled internally at how well Clark knew him. He knew him well too, “Is that why you’re here hanging around my kitchen?”

His best friend smiled, “I wouldn’t say it’s your kitchen, would you Alfred?”

The butler turned and eyed them with restrained amusement, but he deferred, “Everything within these grounds belongs to Master Bruce, Mr Kent.”

Clark raised a teasing eyebrow, “Everything?”

~*~

The weather wasn’t the best, not bad but not the sort you sat outside in by choice, so they decided to make themselves comfortable in the particular living room where they usually relaxed. There were other living rooms, but this one was set out for ambience and acoustics. They both carried in and set down their first attempt at making tall glasses of homemade milkshake with Bruce’s second strange purchase within so many weeks.

Bruce approached the sound system, and chose something upbeat but soothing, nothing too bassy. They wanted to be able to talk, and not shout over the music; though of course Clark could hear him, if he wanted to, Bruce couldn’t say the same. He took a seat on the couch that Clark was sitting at one end of. He lounged back and got comfy. 

They slouched there for a while, just enjoying the company, and the music. Sporadically each of them reached out and grasped their flavourful milkshakes, and taking a swig before returning them on the coffee table. 

Then Clark began humming quietly to the song playing, and Bruce reached for his milkshake and had a gulp. He savoured it in his mouth before swallowing. 

Then a thought tickled him and he sniggered softly.

Clark found his gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

He explained, “I was just thinking, anyone else chilling out like this would be drinking alcohol or smoking pot.”

His friend hummed, and then said, “Neither would do anything more to me than this milkshake, and the milkshake tastes better.”

Interestedly Bruce wondered, “No sugar high either?”

“No, just a nice taste.” Clark revealed.

They continued to lay back and relax. Bruce’s mind returned to the mission this afternoon. He queried, “You know what you said earlier about finishing the fight and watching everyone else’s fight…?”

Clark’s brow creased, and he replied, “I was joking.”

He eyed him with scrutiny, “Were you?”

His friend snorted softly, “Of course.”

Bruce prodded, “So you were fighting Grundy, but as soon as that missile set off you finished Grundy sharpish to go after it.”

Clark held his gaze, and then glanced off to the side, and said, “I don’t think everyone else would be pleased if I butted into their fights.”

“So you play with the criminals like a cat with a mouse until everyone else is finished?”

His friend pursed his lips but didn’t reply or argue the point.

“You could’ve helped me with Bane.” He suggested.

Clark met his eyes again, and said, “Yeah right, you’d sulk if I stepped into that fight.”

It was Bruce’s turn to turn away, and not answer or argue the point. He was sure he’d be put out, but better that than getting slammed against a wall again and again. Finally, he shrugged with acceptance and kind of admitted Clark was right, “I’d get over it.”

Clark smiled knowingly and fondly.

A song ended and another began. They both reached for their drinks at the same time. He snorted at the happenstance and continued. 

Later, he noticed Clark was studying him, as if something was playing on his mind. He realised most of Clark’s focus was on his mouth. Bruce swallowed slowly, wondering if what happened earlier was what was on his best friend’s mind. He’d decided alone that what happened didn’t matter, but he hadn’t taken his friend’s outlook into consideration.

The Clark began lightly, with a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “You know I would’ve thought with your experience that you’d be better than that.”

The words revealed he was thinking of it. Part of him was relieved that Clark wasn’t acting as if what happened was a big deal, but the other part of him couldn’t help but be prickled by the playful insult. 

“It wasn’t anything to get excited about that was for sure.” He concurred.

Clark pursed his lips a little. 

Bruce decided just to say what had been on his mind. “I don’t even know where that came from.” He let out a disgruntled slightly embarrassed sigh.

“You can say that again.” Clark snorted, “Well all I can say is those society darlings must be easily pleased.”

His jaw dropped open at another insult at his kissing technique. He replied sullenly, “I wasn’t even trying.”

His friend’s eyebrows rose, and he mocked, “Yeah right.”

Before Bruce could question his own actions, and with a quiet determination, he sat up and scooted up to Clark’s end of the couch. Clark’s eyes widened at his movement, “What’re you doing?” he asked.

He smirked at him, “I’m going to prove to you that I’m a very good kisser.”

His friend’s cheeks rounded as he grinned, and he shook his head, and mocked, “Bruce, Bruce Bruce.”

Bruce leaned in and taunted, “What’s the matter, maybe you’re worried about how you will be judged huh?”

His best friend breathed deeply, and let it out, he licked his lips, sat up straighter, and then he goaded with a murmur, “Go ahead.”

Now that he had his friend’s permission, he let his gaze fall to Clark’s lips to study the landscape and form a battle plan. His lips were generous and soft, and they opened a touch at his perusal. 

Over the years he’d kissed many women, they had all seemed pleased by his skill but it was the first time he was going to kiss someone when he knew one hundred per cent that he was being judged. The fact it was his best friend made it easier, and harder in turn. It was easy because of the comfortableness he felt with Clark, it was hard because if his technique didn’t please Clark, he would have to spend years of teasing and little taunts about it.

Bruce swallowed, and then he murmured, “Okay.”

Slowly, he closed the gap between them, and pressed their lips together gently. So different from earlier, this was deliberate. He felt the plushness of Clark’s lips, satin soft and springy. He smiled at that thought. Clark’s eyes were open and watching, so he saw the question in his eyes. Bruce murmured the truth, “Your lips are so soft.”

He saw a smile replace the question in his friend’s eyes.

Bruce breathed, and then continued and he caught Clark’s lower full lip between his own, gave it a little tug. Then he pressed in firmer. Clark was still watching, as he let Bruce play his lips over his, but he wasn’t moved to respond. 

He felt a little frown appear on his own forehead. He let out a huffing sigh. He pulled back slightly and gazed at Clark’s lips again. This should be easy, not this hard to figure out. He reached up and he cupped Clark’s jaw, and then Bruce tilted his own head and he slanted his lips over Clark’s with a bit of pressure, and opened Clark’s mouth with his own.

He found his way into the moist haven of Clark’s mouth. His friend let out a tiny sound of surprise, and Bruce felt a little tingle run down his own spine. As Bruce’s tongue dipped inside, he tasted a hint of the chocolate milkshake and a satisfied hum escaped him. 

At that sound, he realised that although Clark had let him inside, that Clark wasn’t participating. He shook his head at himself, of course, he wasn’t. He was judging him that’s all. He ended the kiss, and pulled back.

He gazed at his best friend, and shrugged waiting for his assessment, “Well…?”

Clark studied him, and then slowly nodded, “Better.”

Bruce laughed, “Yeah thanks.”

His friend chuckled. “Well what did you expect, oh Bruce you were fantastic.” he said over-dramatically.

He squinted at him, “You’ve got no room to talk; you daren’t even put yourself up for judgement.”

His best friend raised a brow, and taunted, “Are you challenging me Bruce?”

He hadn’t been before, it had been about proving himself, but now… “Yeah, after all it takes two to tango now doesn’t it?”

Clark laughed lightly. 

Bruce goaded, “Well?”

His friend smiled, and then they both leaned in, but Clark whispered, “I think that milkshakes gone to your head.”

Bruce grinned back, and then began where he’d left off. Except this time, they both tilted their heads and met each other with their lips. Clark’s lips were still soft but now Bruce could feel the response, the pressure as Clark engaged him. 

After a few moments of cautious light brushes, they pulled back minutely and Bruce murmured, “One…”

In sync as always, Clark smiled, “Two.”

Then Bruce whispered, “Three.”

They pressed in together and they opened each other’s mouths, and Clark’s tongue parried his. Their open eyes met, and their tongues met again. That tingle from before, returned full force, and Bruce groaned into Clark’s mouth. Clark’s teeth grazed his bottom lip gently and Clark pulled back enough to murmur, “You’re getting better.”

Bruce smiled with unthinking pride, and caught Clark’s full lips again. In response, Clark opened his mouth wider, and kissed him deeper. Their eyelids fluttered shut in pleasure.

They devoured each other’s mouths. 

He pulled back and he praised, “So damned good.”

Clark caught the back of Bruce’s head, his nape in his powerful hand, and he brought Bruce’s lips back to him. Bruce laughed, and dove back into Clark’s delicious mouth. 

Damn it was so good. He didn’t want to stop. Eagerly, he pressed against Clark’s chest, his friend took the hint, and with their lips never leaving the others, they were sliding down and along the couch in synchronization until Clark lay on the couch with Bruce laying over him. 

Bruce’s hand found its way into Clark’s lustrous hair, and Clark’s hand remained behind Bruce’s head, his other rubbed in calming motions on Bruce’s back. He could feel the matching pressure as their groins lined up through denim, but the ache was sweet and not needy. Every time one of them groaned, the other felt it through his lips and their chests.

They lay like that comfortable, enjoying the warm but sensual kiss of each other. 

Clark’s hand slid down Bruce’s back, to his denim covered ass cheek and kneaded it slowly, Bruce sighed with contentment. 

Their minds had gone on hiatus… that was until the door handle began to turn. They jumped apart as if they’d been touched with a hot iron.

Clark sat up and straightened his hair with his fingers, and Bruce returned to his side of the couch. Alfred entered carrying a silver tray. On the tray was another two glasses of milkshake. Alfred said, “I read the instructions and I think I figured it out. I thought you would like some something tasty.”

Clark and Bruce met each other’s gazes. Clark blinked slowly. Then he replied to Alfred while holding Bruce’s gaze, “That’s great Alfred, but Bruce’s attempt wasn’t as bad as we thought, it turned out quite good actually.”

His eyes widened at his friend using innuendo that thankfully went over Alfred’s head. 

In response, Clark smiled smugly.

Bruce shook his head at his taunting friend.

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 4  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiterose77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,506  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce decides what he should do with the sculpture, and a misunderstanding leads to surprises.

~*~

After some consideration, Bruce had figured out what to do with the unwanted sculpture that he had been psychically persuaded to buy by a metahuman artist. A sculpture that his best friend had persuaded him to keep because he felt sorry for the hard times hit artist. Bruce smiled with prideful glee as he watched as he passed the ugly thing on. 

He observed as the transporters unloaded the boxed up sculpture off of the back of the truck, and set it down in a bare spot near the gates of Centennial Park in Metropolis. As the container was removed, he saw the Metropolis parks and recreation director’s face drop, before a fake smile was plastered back in place. Obviously, the director liked it as much as Bruce did. The man approached and then politely, fawningly thanked him for his wonderful donation, obviously, not wanting to upset a known philanthropist, on the off chance he could be more generous in the future. 

Bruce smiled widely, “I just thought the citizens of Metropolis might appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they will Mr Wayne.”

Actually, there was only one citizen of Metropolis that he was bothered about seeing it. He couldn’t wait to see Clark’s face. His attention was caught as a feminine voice behind him, wondered, “What butt ugly crap is that?”

He recognised the voice and the tone immediately. He turned around, and encountered the gorgeous brunette, who had a takeout coffee cup in one hand and a small paper bakery bag in the other. Bruce smirked at the friend of a friend. “Say what you really mean, Lois.”

Lois rolled her eyes good naturedly, and then turned and walked over to a park bench. Reflexively, Bruce’s gaze lingered on her shapely legs accentuated by her spiked heels that she wore. It was quite a sight. He followed her over, and then took a seat next to her. Lois opened her paper bag, and then offered him the contents. Bruce glanced in and saw the doughnuts inside, maple by the smell, sticky and over-sweet. He hesitated. Lois snorted, and goaded, “Big manly superhero scared of a doughnut?”

He replied wryly, “For two people who claim to be opposites you and Clark have a lot in common.”

Lois raised a shapely brow, Bruce chuckled in response, and he reached in and got a doughnut. “Thank you.”

The brunette grinned, “For two people who claim to be opposites you and Smallville have a lot in common.”

“Touché.” he uttered.

Side-by-side they both bit into the sweet dough at the same time. Then Lois took a sip of coffee. Then she pointed with the cup still in her hand at the sculpture, “What is that anyway?”

He didn’t want to go into the whole story so he abbreviated it. “That thing fell into my hands recently and our buddy convinced me to keep it, but I didn’t really want it.”

“He convinced you… let me guess a hard up case huh?” she asked knowingly.

“That’s Clark for you.”

Lois nodded along, and then offered the cup of coffee. He declined politely, “No thanks.”

“I haven’t got cooties.”

He flashed her grin, “Did I say that?”

She shrugged, and replied sarcastically, “I don’t know where your mouth’s been either.”

His mind flashed back to almost a week ago, when he and Clark had somehow challenged each other to a kissing contest and ended up making out on Bruce’s couch. An amused little smile touched his lips, remembering how easy they had let it go, shrugged it off, and carried on as usual. 

He saw Lois watching him, before she took another bite of her excuse for a lunch. She chewed, motioning to the sculpture and she asked, “So is this like the billionaire’s way of TP-ing his house.”

He raised a querying brow, and Lois expanded, “You know leaving crap in his yard.”

He laughed, “Something like that.” before eating some more of his treat.

The brunette eyed him, studied him for a long moment, then she asked, “This is you isn’t it, you’re Smallville’s friend.”

He swallowed his laugh, realising he was accidentally letting Lois see under his mask. 

She grinned and shook her head. “I see it now.”

He didn’t want to know what Lois thought she saw. He segued, “Do you know where Clark is right now?”

Lois replied casually, “Oil rig fire, he shouldn’t be too long. Are you waiting around for the fallout?”

“That’s the plan.” He smiled despite himself.

“Well I’ve got to finish this coffee and go back to work.” she told him.

He leaned in closer, caught a strand of shiny brown hair, and teased it away from her ear and murmured covertly, “Don’t tell Clark about this.”

Lois laughed lightly, “Our secret.”

Then she swigged down the last of her coffee and stood up. She turned and then stopped suddenly, gazing behind the bench. She swallowed and asked unsurely, “What’s the matter?”

Bruce turned around too and saw Clark standing there behind them from a few feet away. He looked shell shocked, and then he blinked, his eyes darted between Bruce and Lois. He uttered quietly to one of them, “Out of anybody…”

He didn’t finish his sentence; he just turned and headed back the way he came, completely missing the sculpture that was behind all this. Bruce’s mind ticked over but he couldn’t actually work anything out. He didn't even know who Clark had spoken to. His gaze left Clark’s retreating figure and landed on Lois. Her gaze found him; she must’ve seen his confusion and she said, “He thinks that we’re having an affair.” She shook her head, “I’ve got to go after him.”

Bruce got to his feet quickly, and said, “No, let me, it’s my fault, it was my silly prank.”

Lois nodded her consent, and then Bruce set off in the direction Clark had gone, towards the Daily Planet building. 

~*~

He didn’t catch up with him until they reached Clark and Lois’ office. Bruce followed him in through the doorway. Clark glanced over his shoulder and groaned at his arrival. 

Bruce tried to begin, “Clark…”

Clark stopped in his tracks, and Bruce ran into him, they collided and Clark ended up cornered in with his back against the wall. Clark sighed, and bowed his head, “What?”

Unconsciously he stayed in close, and he said gently, “Lois and I…”

His friend huffed, “You’re both sexy people I understand, I just didn’t expect it that’s all.”

Bruce unintentionally replied huskily, “Sexy… you think I’m sexy?”

Clark glanced up and met his gaze through his lenses. “Your whole façade is about being sexy, don’t pretend that you don’t know that.”

He breathed through his nose, his nostril flaring a little, “No, I’m asking if you think I’m sexy.”

His friend’s jaw bulged but he didn’t reply.

A shuddery breath left Bruce, and he accused quietly, “You’re jealous.”

Clark’s jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed but he still didn’t reply.

Bruce licked his lips, and watched Clark’s eyes follow the movement. Then he wondered, “If you wanted Lois, you could’ve had her a long time ago…” Clark blinked slowly, and Bruce continued, “But you friend zoned yourself.”

Clark glanced away to the side, and Bruce leaned in and whispered in his ear, “We’re friends but last week we…”

His best friend turned his head and returned his gaze to Bruce’s eyes. They were so close now, he had the urge to move away, a flight, or fight response but his body screamed at him to stay exactly where he was, pressed up against his best friend. 

His friend accused in a murmur, “You liked what we did. You only stopped because Alfred walked in.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched, and he asked, “If that was the case, why would I be trying to get into Lois’ panties.”

What he’d said didn’t prove anything, but when you trusted someone like Clark and Bruce trusted each other, it was a given that it was the truth. Clark frowned, “You’re not?”

“Just talking, mostly about you…” he whispered.

Clark gazed at him, he blinked rapidly, and then a blush came to his cheeks, embarrassed, delightful… Bruce ran his thumb over his pinked cheek, he whispered hoarsely, “Fuck.”

His friend sniggered at his reaction. Then he glanced down, and then Clark echoed him, “Fuck.”

The curse coming out of his friend’s mouth sent a tingle down his body, it ended where Clark was looking, and Bruce gazed down too. He saw the fabric of his own pants tent a bit more. His nerves were on edge, and he whispered, “Stop looking.”

He saw Clark’s body heave but he continued looking down, mesmerised. 

Bruce whispered the plea, “Please stop looking.”

Clark unbowed his head, and meet his gaze so close, so intimate. He stared at his mouth and then their mouths came together hard, hungry and a little desperate. Bruce’s mind was overloading, and he pulled out of the kiss. Clark tried to follow him and close the gap again, but Bruce grasped his head in his hands to stop him.

His best friend stared at him panting heavily, and then Clark’s gaze drifted down between them again. Bruce uttered, “Oh shit.”

Then some primal need took over, and he found his hands sliding down from Clark’s head, and then pushing down on his shoulders. Bruce’s body trembled as Clark let him; let him push him down to his knees.

Once down there, Clark stared at the tented crotch in front of him but made no movement. Bruce waited on edge, desperate for Clark to get back up, but also yearning for him to do something now that he was down there. Clark licked his lips maybe with nerves, Bruce didn’t know at this moment. But he wasn’t getting back up either.

Need with a dash of embarrassment and a sprinkling of anger, at himself and at Clark for going down there, spurred him on and he reached for his own zipper, and he lowered it. He saw Clark blink, and then Clark reached for the clasps and unfastened him completely. Bruce watched as Clark reached into his boxers and pulled out Bruce’s erection, it was hard and heavy with arousal and Bruce couldn’t explain how after all this time his best friend had caused it.

He felt Clark’s hot breath on the glans. Clark glanced up then and met his gaze. Holding eye contact, he leaned in and licked the length from his balls to the very tip of his cock. Bruce gazed down eager and amazed that they were doing this. His breath stuttered as Clark began kissing the glans with his soft insistent lips. He reached down and he ran his thumb over the plush lips that he had kissed and savoured last week. In response, Clark reached around and grasped Bruce’s bare ass. Bruce whispered, “You want it.”

His best friend didn’t answer with words but he leaned in and took the head into his mouth. The soft wet heat made instinct take over and Bruce tensed his jaw, he cupped Clark’s head, and then he began thrusting. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he fucked his best friend’s mouth, as his friend desperately grasped his ass, and took his cock, stretching that pretty mouth wider. At that wicked thought, his eyes darted back down. He needed to see it, and not just feel it. 

He whined as he saw his cock in Clark’s mouth. Clark met his gaze again, sucked and hummed around him. 

“Oh my god.” Bruce exclaimed. 

For the first time since he’d been down there, a glint of amusement shone from Clark’s eyes through his lenses, a smile almost curled his wet lips.

And for the first time, Bruce felt like himself again too, and he smiled down and praised, “Oh Clark, you are so fucking good.”

Clark pulled back to the tip, and really smiled, “I guess you’re not really interested in Lois.”

Bruce murmured, “Please keep going.”

He smiled smugly, and then he sucked Bruce back into his hot wet mouth. He sucked him with gusto until Bruce gasped, “I’m coming. Damn it I’m coming.”

Clark pulled off with a satisfied pop and then stroked him through it. Bruce’s body shuddered as his come ran down the length, and made Clark’s stroking hand sticky. 

He panted as he recovered, his knees felt weak. He watched as Clark leaned in and kissed the tip tenderly. Then he watched as Clark rose from his knees. As he walked across the office, Bruce caught sight of Clark subtly licking his own lips, capturing the taste of Bruce’s essence off of them. In response to that sight, a drop of come gathered at the tip of his softening cock. 

Then Clark was searching around in what Bruce knew was Lois Lane’s side of their double desk. From out of the drawers, he brought out some wet wipes. He handed Bruce a few, and used some more to wipe his hand. 

He cleaned up the best that he could and then caught Clark’s gaze again. Clark shrugged, and said in way of explanation, “Too many doughnuts.”

Feeling off kilter, he looked at his friend gone out. Clark smiled, “Sticky fingers.”

Bruce chuckled. 

He pulled up his pants and fastened them again. 

When he was back in order, he found Clark’s gaze again. He didn’t know how to proceed, so he said, “That was really incredible, thank you.”

Clark blinked slowly and then nodded, and replied, “I enjoyed it too.”

“Really?” he asked with a raised playful eyebrow.

His friend licked his lips and then cleared his throat, “Yes… um so what was yours and Lois’ secret then?”

Returning to be fully at ease with his best friend, Bruce smirked, “Come on I’ll show you.”

~*~

He led him downstairs and back outside the Daily Planet building, towards Centennial Park, as they got to the gate nearest the Daily Planet, Bruce saw the transporters and the park’s director were gone, Lois was gone too, obviously out on a story, because she never returned to the office, thank heavens. 

This time when he entered the park, Clark spotted the wooden sculpture straightaway. A little redpoll was already using it for a perch. Clark grimaced and shook his head, “Wow you’re hilarious.”

Bruce grinned at the expression on his friend’s face; it was exactly what he’d wanted to see. He teased him, “Well you wanted it, so there you go.”

“It would’ve been better up in that lost part of the Manor you had it in already.” he grumbled.

He chuckled, “No I think it’s fine where it is. You never know, someone might like it.”

“You never know.” Clark conceded with a groan.

 

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 5  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiterose77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,702  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Bruce comes to a worrying realisation.

~*~

Bruce spent the next few days, not exactly worried about this situation with Clark. It wasn’t that the things they kept doing felt wrong, on the contrary, they felt very right. Yet it was so close to their run in with the artist with the art of persuasion, that it was that very rightness that he felt, that worried him. He was worried because his feelings for Clark were the same as always, he cared for him, and he respected him, and felt like himself with him, not Bruce Wayne, not Batman, not some orphan kid, and not some spoiled socialite, not them or all of them together, the sum of all those parts. He hoped, believed that Clark felt the same, to Bruce he wasn’t just Superman, Kal-El an alien, or an orphan, or Clark Kent a farm boy, or a shy but brilliant writer, to Bruce he was all this and more, he was his best friend. 

And now out of nowhere, they had kissed each other, not once, but made out, and Clark had… Bruce had pushed him down to his knees… and his best friend had… 

He breathed deeply, remembering Clark’s lips around him. Bruce had wanted it, and Clark had given it freely. 

But now there was doubt, a shadow… what if what they were doing wasn’t free will at all. Before he saw his friend again, Bruce was going to find out the truth to know where he stood.

Bruce parked his car outside. He’d traced the artist Kyle Tippet to the art gallery that was showcasing his work, for the following few days. He entered and then walked towards the staff area near the back. He found Tippet talking to the gallery manager. He tapped on the open door. Tippet’s eyes widened when he saw him, Bruce saw him glanced worriedly towards the manager. He was probably worried that he’d come to rat him out.

Bruce motioned with his head, “Can I have a word with you in private, Mr Tippet?”

Kyle swallowed slowly, his stubble covered jaw bulging at the movement. Then he nodded, and said politely for the manager’s sake, “Sure Mr Wayne…” he said to the gallery manager, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Then he followed Bruce out into the gallery, amongst the exhibit. Bruce stopped in his tracks and turned around. For a second, he remembered what Clark had said, that it was best not to let Kyle know anything about him by threatening him out of his city. He considered how to play this then. He decided on a place between his real self and Brucie. He put on a smile. 

Kyle frowned at him, and then asked, “I guess you’re here to return the piece?”

He chuckled lightly, “Clark told me I should let you off, and I thought why not, after all you’re a friend of his.”

The artist tutted softly, “He was a good kid, I guess he still is.”

Bruce's smile was almost genuine when he replied, “That’s why I like him.”

Kyle nodded with an endeared look on his face. “So if you’re not here for your money back, what can I do for you?”

He turned and paced the shiny tiled floor for a second, and then he turned back. He said, “Clark told me about your power, he said it was a direct command sort of thing, and that a person keeps trying to obey until it’s completed.”

The other man nodded.

“So there’s no control, like being hypnotised?”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’d just like to know that there’s not going to be any lingering side effects.”

“No, to answer your question, it’s not that direct, as with you that night, you still had your faculties, you didn’t do anything or say anything out of the ordinary, you just bought my art because I told you to.”

He took a shot in the dark and asked casually, “I guess it’s like when you told Clark and I to enjoy the rest of our evening the other week?”

A glimmer of amusement came to Kyle’s eyes as he asked, “Did you enjoy yourself that night?”

“Yes.” he answered simply.

Kyle let his amusement show and he grinned, “I’d say it was your boyfriend you have to thank for that then, not me.”

Bruce eyed him, and questioned, “You didn’t suggest that to us?”

“I don’t use my ability for such mundane matters; it’s too serious and dangerous to let it become a habit.”

“Clark told me you promised him, that you didn’t plan to sell any more of your works for a while.”

“Yes.” he said sincerely.

That was encouraging. It didn’t help him with his other problem. He paced again. 

“Is there something else Mr Wayne?”

He turned back, and said lightly, “Clark told me about his friend, the one you got to kiss him…”

Kyle chuckled with remembrance. “Cute kid; didn’t know what to do with himself, just stood there and let her slobber on him for a moment.”

Bruce chuckled, imagining Clark as a gangly teenager being jumped by his friend. Kyle added, “I think she wasn’t the girl he actually wanted though, that was the problem. She was so embarrassed when she let go of him.”

“But she wanted to kiss him, or did you just suggest that she did?”

Kyle meet his gaze seriously, “I could’ve said kiss him, but I couldn’t have made her have those feelings she had for him. I could suggest you kill someone, you would kill them, but I couldn’t make you want to do it or enjoy doing it.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “Just like me and that sculpture, I bought it, but I couldn’t figure out why I bought it, I didn’t even like it.” He saw the look in the artist’s eyes. He shrugged, “Sorry but it’s the truth.”

The guy studied him, and asked, “You're sure you don’t want your money back.”

He shook his head, “I’m sure, Clark said so, so no…” he told him seriously, “Clark expected more of you, you know.”

Kyle Tippet nodded, “I know.”

Bruce told him, “Try not to let him down again in the future.”

He returned home to the Manor. He’d had a lot to think about on his trip home. After everything Tippet had said, and Bruce believed the man, it turned out the kiss and everything that came after was his own doing, their own doing. The artist had innocently put the word 'boyfriend' out there into the space between Bruce and his best friend, yet there was no one else to blame, he had just randomly felt like kissing his best friend. He considered his feelings; he knew how he felt about Clark hadn’t changed. He felt just the same about him as he felt yesterday, last week, a year ago.

~*~

It was midnight, he stood alone on one of the highest rooftops in Gotham, not the highest, and he gazed out at his city’s skyline. His gaze coming to focus on Wayne Enterprises Tower, he smiled internally, a smile that managed to touch the edge of his lips with remembrance and a little pride of his family’s mark on the city. 

“You haven’t bought anymore sculptures have you?” the familiar voice asked wryly.

His smile found its way all the way out, at the question, and the presence beside him. He replied, “No, just having a quiet moment that’s all.”

“All alone?” he wondered.

“Dick’s got the nightshift again.” he glanced sideways, “What about you?”

Superman chuckled lightly, “I just delivered a baby.”

Batman turned and stared at him, “Really?”

His friend pulled a cringing face, “Yeah, couldn’t move her, and the medics couldn’t get through the traffic. She squeezed my hand so hard she almost broke it.”

“Aha, all went well I hope Doctor?” he half teased.

“Mother and baby are well… she wants to name the baby after me.”

He couldn’t keep it inside, he snorted, “I guess you didn’t suggest Clark huh?” Superman winced, and Batman comforted, “Kal isn’t a bad name it’s quite nice and modern…”

His friend hissed under his breath, and Batman asked, “What?”

“The baby was a little girl, so it’s Kallie.”

Batman grinned, “Sweet.”

Superman forgot his pique and mirrored his grin, “I guess so.”

Their gazes lingered on each other. Then Superman blinked, and then he sat down on the edge of the roof. He got comfortable with his legs dangling over the edge. Batman gazed down at him, “What are you doing?”

His best friend rolled his eyes, and playfully mocked, “I’m sitting down. Why… are you going somewhere soon?”

Batman mocked glared, and then he mirrored his friend and sat down next to him. Once he was seated, Batman peered down at the street so far below, and then he diverted his gaze before any signs of vertigo started to affect him. Superman smirked at his behaviour, “Don’t tell me after all these years that you’re afraid of heights?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d have to be crazy to do what I do and be afraid of heights wouldn’t I?”

“You crazy, never…” Superman teased.

“So funny.” he uttered.

His friend bumped his shoulder to his, “I’m the same.”

“What?”

“Afraid of heights, always have been since I was a kid.”

Batman was incredulous and he glanced from Superman to the night sky and back again. Superman explained, “I love flying now. I just have to ignore the ground below and get on with what I’ve got to do.”

He murmured in reply, “Super willpower huh.”

Superman leaned in closer, “Will of steel, you have it too.”

“You flatter me.” he replied with fondness.

They gazed into each other’s eyes, and he saw a soft look come to his friend’s oceanic eyes just before Superman glanced at his lips and then leaned in. Batman’s reaction was surprise, not expecting it, especially in uniform. His best friend saw his eyes widen and it stopped him in his tracks before their lips met. He pulled back, looked away, and studied the horizon. 

Batman watched him. He saw Superman’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. Then his friend said gravelly, “Sorry, I didn’t think, I just…”

He saw the turmoil in his friend’s countenance. Clark was apologising for trying to kiss him, even though they had done so much more last week, they hadn’t mentioned it, not ignored it, just not mentioned it, just like the week before with the make out session. 

Even though, he knew that their actions were their own, he still hadn’t analysed those actions, these things just kept coming up between them. However, he spoke the truth, “Don’t apologise, I wasn’t expecting you to… in uniform…”

Slowly, Superman turned his head and met his gaze. Batman saw the tension leave his friend’s body. Superman smiled a small bashful smile, and told him, “Your mouth…”

That little tingle that he kept experiencing returned, and spread through Batman’s body, just from those two words.

“… it’s while you wear your cowl, it highlights it, it’s very…” Superman licked his lips, “…tempting.”

Batman breathed noisily, “Yeah, well yours is tempting all the time.”

Superman raised a playful eyebrow, “Is that right?”

He nodded, and murmured, “Why don’t we try this again?”

His friend let his gaze drop from Batman’s eyes, to his mouth, and then he leaned in again. Their lips met, and he realised how easy it was now, after their previous kisses. The kisses they shared were comfortable and insanely pleasurable at the same time. A low rumble left Superman’s throat, and Batman echoed it. His gloved hand threaded through Superman’s black hair at the back, and one of Superman’s hands cupped his cowl covered head in response. 

Their tongues met langoriously and played with the others, and then Superman opened his mouth wider, and for a second he felt like he was being eaten alive. He growled into Superman’s mouth as he remembered Clark doing just that. He remembered Clark taking him into his mouth. He also remembered thanking him for it afterwards. He groaned into Superman’s mouth as he realised only now his discourtesy, he should’ve thanked him properly.

He pushed against Superman’s chest with his gloved hand and then guided them down, so Superman’s red caped back was against the rooftop, never breaking the connection of their lips. Superman used both hands to cup his cowl covered head, but Batman trailed his free hand down from his chest until his palm covered Superman’s crotch. His best friend gasped at the first touch through the thin material and then moaned into his mouth as Batman massaged him.

As he hardened against his hand, Superman pulled out of the kiss, and he stared, panting, his eyes bright, questioning but most of all needy.

He leaned in and kissed him hard in response to the question, then he leaned away, and his gaze found the trapped length at Superman’s crotch. His eyes returned to Superman’s and as always, they were in sync, and Superman reached down, and separated his uniform, and he released his erection to the night air.

He stared at it, but he didn’t give himself chance to question what they were doing, what he was doing. He went in quickly, and wrapped his lips around the head of Superman’s cock. His best friend’s body shuddered in response. He licked around the heavy flesh, and hummed at the taste of it. He felt Superman’s hand come to rest on the back of his cowl covered head, and he groaned and he wrapped his gloved fist around the base, and he met his friend’s eyes and he covered the rest of the length with his mouth. 

His best friend’s eyes fluttered, and he sighed, “Oh shit B.”

He was mesmerised, seeing the pleasure he was causing and he flailed his tongue against Superman’s cock with purpose if not with skill. His friend’s eyes focused intensely on him, and they both moaned at the same time. He wanted to hear more of that. He wanted more of him in his mouth. His gloved hand left the base, and slipped down and massaged his balls. He got what he wanted, Superman began to moan endlessly, and he arched into Batman’s mouth. He groaned and hummed around the girth enjoying the experience so damned much. 

He slipped his fingers behind his friend’s balls, and pressed his leather clad fingertip against him. His friend whined softly, and he spread his thighs reflexively. At the move, they locked gazes, and Batman moaned around him, then Superman’s orgasm came fast and it flowed through his body to the tip of his cock. 

Batman licked the tartness from his lips, and watched intensely as Superman’s chest rose and fell, as he recovered against the rooftop, his red cape spread out beneath him.

After a minute, there was moment of hesitation before Batman sat up. Superman awkwardly pulled up his uniform bottoms, put himself away, and then he sat up too. Then together they sat there quietly looking out over Gotham, until mirroring little smiles tugged at the corners of their mouths. 

They met each other’s gazes, and then Superman leaned in, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He knew he was purposefully echoing Bruce’s response from last week. He leaned in and kissed his best friend’s lips. Superman groaned tasting himself in Batman’s mouth. Batman kissed him deeply before dragging his lips away lingeringly.

They sat there quietly again side by side. Then Superman asked lightly, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

He thought it over, and remembered, “Tomorrow night, I’ve got another date with Elizabeth.”

Superman’s eyes seemed to flare for a second, and then he just nodded, and joked playfully, “As long as it’s not Lois.”

He grinned in return, “She is a gorgeous brunette but she’s not as feisty as Lois.”

His best friend chuckled, “Yeah well you can’t get much feistier that Lois Lane.”

 

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 6   
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiterose77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 2,601  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: After sharing much with his friend, Bruce finds that there are effects caused by what they are doing.

~*~

It was several days later, they’d both been busy and out of touch. Bruce found himself eager to see him. He knew that right now Clark was at work at the Daily Planet. He had traced him in the building and he knew Clark was returning to his office after seeing his editor Mr White. Clark distractedly pressed for the elevator, and when it arrived, the doors opened and he found a well turned out Bruce Wayne standing by his side.

He half smiled at his presence, and entered the car side by side with him. 

Bruce joked, “Going down?”

His best friend shook his head and reached for the button, he wondered, “Is there a reason that you’re here Mr Wayne?”

“I happened to be in Metropolis, so I thought I’d take my friend to lunch, Mr Kent.” He said jovially.

Clark didn't reply, he adjusted his glasses instead.

He turned to face him, with a frown on his face. Clark appeared a little nervous. Their eyes found each other’s lips. With a sense of mischief, Bruce gave him a small smile, and then stepped in closer. Clark leaned in and pressed his body against his, and whispered into his ear coyly, “I think you’re trying to live up to your reputation, Mr Wayne.”

He whispered back, “It’s never been this much fun, Mr Kent.”

His best friend turned his head, and their lips met and their mouths opened together. 

Their lips played slowly.

Clark let out a sighing little mew and pressed in closer, and their crotches met. Bruce groaned into Clark’s mouth. They moaned into each other’s mouths, and slowly Clark reached down to Bruce’s wool clad legs and he hefted Bruce up against the walnut parquet veneered wall of the elevator car. The move was unexpected, but Bruce was thrilled by the arousal it caused to flow through him.

The elevator coming to a stop pulled them apart. Clark let him down, and then they stood twitchily side by side as the doors opened. When the doors opened, what they revealed began a small kernel of confusion inside Bruce that slowly snowballed into muted disbelief. 

Bruce stared out across the hallway, and saw a person there waiting, and if Bruce had been normal he probably wouldn’t have even recognised the man, but with his eidetic memory, he did. The male half of the couple from the malt shop from weeks ago, the one with the nice ass, as Clark had noticed and told him so, was standing right there, and looking around the bullpen absently. Obviously, he was waiting for someone. 

It only took moments for the answer to be revealed. As the man glanced at the open doors of the elevator and smiled in Clark’s direction. The good looking guy stepped towards them, and Bruce turned to him and he watched Clark breath slowly.

Still reeling, Bruce uttered, “Clark what is this?”

Clark bowed his head and stared at his own shoes. “Bruce don’t…”

He asked again a little tersely, “What’s he doing here Clark?”

Still smiling and oblivious, the guy came up, “Hi, am I on time for lunch?”

Bruce flashed a glare at the guy, but said to Clark quietly, “I don’t understand.”

The guy asked, “Hey what’s going on?”

He was a ball of confusion, and he couldn’t think until Clark answered his questions. He glowered at the guy, “Get lost.”

It was then that Clark looked up finally. He inhaled, and then spoke to the other man, not to Bruce. “Sorry about this, I’ll have to talk to you later.”

The other man looked confused, but nodded understandingly, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe back at my…”

He couldn’t help it; it was something territorial deep inside him, Bruce sneered, “Don’t bet on it.”

Clark shook his head and walked away then. 

It was only after the other guy walked away into the elevator to leave that Bruce followed Clark, but he never caught up with him, when he reached Clark’s office it was empty. 

~*~

As he drove to Clark’s apartment, he was still confused, kind of hurt, his pride as well as emotionally, and he was leaning towards disappointed in himself as well for showing all of that in front of the other man. 

He got to Clark’s apartment, and let himself in. He closed the door, and found his best friend standing over by the window. He knew Clark must’ve seen his car pull up outside, and watched him come up. Bruce studied the back of him for a few prolonged moments. 

He didn’t know what to say now he was here. In the end, he said almost accusatorily, “I guess you used some of that confidence after all huh?”

He saw the movements of his frame as he breathed deeply, but his friend didn’t reply.

Bruce said quietly, “You said… you hadn’t… for a while. But then we… but you were with him… and I don’t know…”

Without turning from the window, Clark asked, “How was your date?”

Bruce blinked, “Fine…” he frowned, and he approached slowly, “Was you… jealous again… is that why… you said…”

“I’m not jealous.”

“So why would you need…” he trailed off.

“Did you have sex with her?” he asked neutrally.

Bruce frowned, as he came up behind his friend, but he answered the question, “Yes.”

He saw Clark nod slowly. 

He reached out and ran his hand over Clark’s back, and his friend’s body shivered in reaction, and Bruce asked, “But you’re not jealous?”

This time, Clark shook his head, “No.”

Bruce ran his hands around Clark’s waist, and up his torso, he felt the muscles beneath the fabric. Clark leaned back into his frame, his firm ass pressed back against his crotch reflexively. Bruce groaned inwardly, and sighed outwardly, “Oh Clark.”

“You were jealous.” Clark accused softly.

He spoke into Clark’s ear, and admitted, “I don’t know what I was. After that kiss in the elevator, and then seeing him...” Clark moaned softly, and tilted his head closer to his whispering mouth, and he pressed back against his crotch again. Bruce echoed the moan, and tilted his hips and pressed his crotch forward, “I know I’m greedy, but I want to be everything you need.”

Clark moaned, and he reached back blindly, caught Bruce’s hip, and held him to him. 

Damn, every reaction from Clark was telling him that he was so needy right now. He reached down, and he cupped Clark’s crotch, and felt the aroused length. Clark shuddered in his embrace, and mewed, “Bruce.”

Bruce blindly unfastened Clark’s suit pants, and slid his hand in and wrapped his fist around Clark’s erection. He stroked it, and he whispered, “You don’t need him.”

His best friend gasped, and he grinded back against him, and Bruce saw the glimpse of bare skin of his ass cheeks. Clark panted, “Not him.”

Still looking down between them, mesmerised and curious, with his other hand he tugged down Clark’s waistband until he saw the firm bare curves of Clark’s ass. He touched them and caressed him, he remembered pressing his leather clad finger to him, and now he did it again but with bare finger.

Clark groaned, and reflexively arched back against it. Bruce groaned low from his chest, he brought his finger to his lips and got it wet and then pressed it to his friend’s ass again. He played against it until his finger gained entrance, and then he thrust it, and he stroked Clark’s cock with the other hand, and the man with unsurmountable strength leaned back into Bruce to steady himself, as he moaned and he panted, and he pressed back for his thrusting finger. 

Bruce kissed his ear, and whispered, “You’re not seeing him again Clark.”

His best friend let out a groaning laugh, “Crazy bat.”

Trust Clark to find something humorous in this situation. He grumbled, and put his forehead against his shoulder.

He felt it when Clark stopped laughing. Then Clark revealed defiantly, “I will see him again…” Bruce tensed for a second before Clark continued, “He’s my source on an article that I’m writing about the resurgence in popularity of family owned malt shops; because he helps his dad to run the one that we went to.”

A sense of relief and embarrassment flooded Bruce. He stayed as he was with his forehead against Clark’s shoulder until Clark squirmed against him. He realised that both his hands had stilled at the revelation. He came back to the moment, lifted his head and took in the situation they were in. He held his friend’s aching cock in one hand, and the finger of the other was deep inside his best friend’s ass. He whispered, “Damn.” and pulled both his hands away from Clark’s body.

There was silence between them.

They were in the freeze frame of aroused and needy, and aroused and stung by annoyance, but the annoyance was gone. He watched as slowly Clark bowed his head at the loss of his touch. Bruce glanced down to his friend’s ass that his finger had been fucking moments before. His other hand sticky with his friend’s pre-come. His own trapped cock flexed at his fly.

Bruce groaned, and went into action, and he smeared the pre-come up the valley of his friend’s gorgeous ass cheeks. Clark jumped startled at the sudden move, and then groaned as he realised what was happening. Bruce lowered his own zipper, and took his own hard cock in hand, and he lined up and he pressed in. In that moment, Clark arched for it, and cried softly as he breached him. Bruce took a ragged breath, and he watched down the narrow gap between them as he pushed his cock inside. Clark’s ass was so tight, and Bruce hissed, and grasped his hips as he pushed in deeper. Clark’s hand returned to Bruce’s hip, but he didn’t stop him, just held on.

He grunted softly, and he withdrew, saw the head of his cock again. He grasped a handful of Clark’s suit jacket and shirt, and held it out of his view. He was mesmerised watching his cock thrust slowly back into his best friend’s gloriously tight ass. He withdrew and thrust in again. 

Clark whined, and Bruce pulled him back against his chest, and asked in his ear, nipping it with his teeth for empathise, “Do you like that?”

“Yeah.” His best friend gasped.

He thrust into him, and gasped into his ear, “So do I, shit Clark so do I.”

“Damn Bruce, damn that’s good.” Clark murmured.

He nipped and kissed his ear, “Yes.”

For some crazy reason he felt like his legs were shaking. He held Clark close, guided them, and whispered in his ear, “Come with me.” He began sinking to his knees, and he felt Clark go with him in sync. They sank down until both their knees met the floor, with him still deep inside him. He grabbed Clark’s suit jacket and pulled it back from his shoulders, as he did it, he had second thoughts and pulled at his shirt too, no time for buttons, he tore it apart, and then he dragged both the shirt and the jacket off at the same time. The buttons spilled across the floor, and all Clark said was, “Oh fuck.”

Bruce asked gravelly, “You liked that?”

Clark groaned, and admitted, “I like everything that you’re doing.”

He kissed his neck hard, and then his shoulder, and then he grasped it, and pushed Clark slightly forward, and at the same time leaned back, gazing down the gap he made, he began thrusting his cock again. Hypnotised by the sight of it going in and pulling out, it felt so sinful, but that all he could say was, “So good Clark, oh god so good.”

His best friend let out a little moan on every thrust, and he echoed him with a grunt or a groan. 

Until Clark began to move and lean away further until his hands touched the floor and Bruce had to follow to stay in contact. Slipping out along the short distance, he was presented with his friend’s ass in full glory. He reached out, and he used his thumbs to spread his cheeks, and looked and he saw.

“Oh fuck.” he moaned.

“Please.” Clark asked empty now, and so needy.

Bruce’s cock flexed at that plea. He spat against him, and Clark groaned. Then Bruce lined his cock, wet with his own pre-come and he thrust his cock inside again. He moaned, as the way got a little easier. He began thrusting again, and Clark demanded quietly, “Harder, please.”

He breathed through his teeth, and he gave Clark what he asked him for. He found a hard rhythm but not too hard but steady and deep. Staying in that good hard rhythm let his mind wander, but not really, because it freed his concentration to take in the situation that was happening. It was lunchtime on a Friday with the sunshine coming in through the window, and he was fucking his best friend on his friend’s living room floor.

He panted almost shocked by the revelation, “Clark.”

Then his best friend turned, and looked over his shoulder at him. He met his heavy lidded gaze for the first time since this began. Bruce let out a yell as he came violently. He saw Clark’s eyes flutter shut, as he felt Bruce come inside him. Bruce shuddered, as that notion kept him coming. His fingers pressed into the flesh at Clark’s hips. Clark cried out, and his hand shot beneath him. 

Even as Clark stroked himself, Bruce withdrew, then he was desperately pushing Clark over onto his back, then he covered his hand with his hand, and took over the stroking, and his mouth passionately covered Clark’s panting mouth. Bruce kissed him until Clark stopped coming and he stopped panting, and returned his kiss lazily, and sated.

When everything had stilled, they met each other’s gaze finally with lucidness. There was shock, a little awe in both their gazes. Finally, Clark laid his head back against the floor, and then he chuckled, “Oh my god, we…”

Hearing and seeing Clark’s laughter, Bruce flopped over to the side of him, lay back, and stared at Clark's living room lightshade, he sighed noisily, “…Fucked.”

Clark chuckled more in response. “Now that’s what keeps the socialites happy.”

Bruce looked across and glared for a second, “You said it’s been a while, you’re easily pleased.”

His best friend propped himself up on his elbows, “I definitely wouldn’t say that, besides can’t you take a compliment.” 

He held his gaze for a long moment, and then he shrugged, and confessed, “None of them were as good as that.”

“Not even this Elizabeth woman that you’ve been dating?”

He exhaled, “Elizabeth who I have another date with tonight.”

There was silence from Clark, and Bruce caught his eye, and raised a brow, “Still not jealous?”

Clark squinted at him, “You want me to be jealous?”

“I guess not.” he admitted.

“Yeah I thought so.” He stood up, and muttered, “I’m going to get cleaned up.” he headed for his bathroom, and then called, “We might as well have our lunch here huh?”

He glanced at his watch, and concurred, “Might as well now.”

 

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: Art of Persuasion 7/7  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce   
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (Whiterose)  
RATING: Adult  
WORD COUNT: 3,072  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Will Clark and Bruce figure out what they’re actually doing with each other?

~*~

After Clark had disappeared into the bathroom, Bruce’s gaze returned to the lightshade on Clark’s living room ceiling. He was still overawed about what had just occurred. He and his best friend had just had sex together and wow, it was phenomenal. A satisfied smile came to his lips. His mind returned to the memory of their bodies moving together, how Clark had met his thrusts, so giving…

Hmm but then again, Clark was giving, he remembered two weeks ago, his lips around him. Bruce also remembered how it had taken a week for him to come to his senses and return the favour.

A jolt of desire surged through him at that thought, and he hummed through smiling lips.

~*~

Bruce entered the bathroom to the sound of running water, and steam pervading the air. Through the see-through pane of the shower door, he watched as his best friend soaped and washed his muscled naked body. He watched intensely as Clark’s hand disappeared behind him, working to clean away the traces that Bruce had left inside him.

Earlier, he had felt territorial over his friend when he thought he was seeing another man, now he felt it again watching him wash away his mark. 

Finally, the water turned off, and Clark’s attention was turned towards the shower door. Bruce saw him stop in his tracks, and gaze at him through the glass, only now realising Bruce’s presence. Then the door opened and they were face to face. Reflexively, Bruce’s gaze devoured Clark’s wet muscled body. Clark licked his lips nervously at his perusal. Then his friend snorted softly, smiled bashfully, and then reached for a towel and wrapped it around himself. He stepped out the shower, saying, “I’ll get lunch started.”

Bruce watched with amusement as Clark left the bathroom.

~*~

A little while later, Bruce returned from the bathroom, he entered the kitchen only wearing Clark’s bathrobe. Wearing his suit pants and a clean shirt, his friend glanced up from the worktop where he was preparing something. He swallowed hard seeing him, and then he joked, “Did you forget your clothes?”

Bruce smiled fondly and then he approached coyly, until he was standing right in front of his friend, and then up even closer. Clark asked, “What…” then understanding was there, and a delightful cheeky little smile came to his best friend’s lips. “Again…?” 

He asked him seductively, “When you take my ass, will I like it as much as I liked taking yours?”

Clark’s striking eyes locked onto his, and he asked, “Is that what you... Is that why you…?”

Bruce leaned in and kissed him, and uttered against his lips, “Huh-huh.”

His friend pulled him closer and then suddenly turned them and pressed Bruce up against the refrigerator door. Though, he asked, "You're sure?" against his lips.

Bruce’s fingers tangled in Clark’s hair as he was held there and he mumbled into Clark’s mouth, “That's how this works huh, you do something for me, and then I do something for you, and then you do something for... me." He groaned the last word, as Clark bended his knees and slowly grinded up against him. Bruce sighed into his mouth, “Oh yes, so good."

“Yeah baby.” Clark hummed in return.

He laughed at the endearment. In response, Clark’s ran his hands over Bruce’s bare thighs, his best friend told him huskily, “I really wish I could just slide into you right now.”

Bruce smiled against his lips, “Go on.”

Clark frowned, and then he saw the gleam in Bruce’s eyes, and with realisation, he grinned mischievously, “You haven’t?”

His friend shouldn't have been surprised; he was renowned for being prepared for anything. He grinned saucily in return. Then as he effortlessly pinned Bruce there with his strength, Clark awkwardly reached down and he unclasped his pants. As Bruce lay against the fridge door watching him with fascination, Clark panted with passion. Bruce groaned with desire.

As his lover lined up, and thrust slowly but smoothly inside his ass, Bruce’s breath was shuddery with rapture. He cried, “Oh shit.” He saw the concentration on best friend’s face as he thrust slowly and carefully into his tight ass. Bruce groaned hoarsely, “Yes.”

Clark grunted softly and then pulled him away from the door, and Bruce’s legs encircled Clark’s waist and he carried him. Clark sat down in one of his wooden dining set chairs with Bruce’s straddling his lap. Clark returned his mouth to his, and took it slowly but needful. Clark’s hand caressed his naked back under the loose robe, and then his oh so powerful yet gentle hands grasped Bruce’s shoulders, and pulled him down onto him. Bruce gasped as he was taken to the hilt. 

Bruce’s hands cupped Clark’s face, and then he began moving, rocking down on his length, panting into his mouth with every movement, loving the unfamiliar but intimate feeling of his best friend being inside him.

His best friend brought him forward so they were chest to chest with his erection trapped between them. Clark grasped his hips, and helped him, took his weight, guided him, and thrust up to meet him. Clark took over the rhythm, thrusting up into his ass, stretching him open. Bruce laid his forehead into the nook of his best friend’s neck, and panted against it and breathed in the warm unique smell of his friend. He uttered against the warm flesh, “I’m glad I came for lunch.”

Gently, Clark cupped the back of his head in one hand; his fingers threaded through his hair and he moaned, “So am I?”

Bruce lifted his head, and he met Clark’s gaze, his friend’s gorgeous eyes sparkled at him with arousal and fondness. Bruce leaned forward and he pressed his forehead to Clark’s and they smiled softly, secretively and most of all affectionately at each other.

~*~

He entered the kitchen of the Manor, to let Alfred know he was back, although he wasn’t about it seemed. 

“Oh there you are. I wanted to tell you, I can’t patrol tonight.” Dick told him.

He found his gaze, and walked over to the kitchen table and took a seat, “Duty is harder when you’ve got two, I suppose.”

The off-duty police officer grinned smugly, “Not that kind of duty Bruce, date tonight.”

He nodded tolerantly, “Snap.”

Dick nodded slowly, and then tilted his head, “Is this a date-date or a Clark date?”

His own awareness of the events of late, played tricks with his mind, catching himself out and he asked dumbstruck, “A date with Clark?”

His crime fighting partner frowned at his reaction, and then shrugged it off, and taunted, “Yeah I mean you two spend so much time together, if he was a woman I’d think that you two were dating.”

Bruce licked his lips before he spoke, and then replied flippantly, “For your information the date I have tonight is with a red blooded woman.” Then he added, “Clark had his turn at lunchtime.”

Dick raised both his eyebrows as he stood up. Then he uttered, “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think you were joking.”

He held his gaze, thought about owning it for a spilt second, decided against it, he didn’t even know what to call what he would be admitting. Finally, he smirked, and replied ambiguously, “Sometimes people can surprise you.”

Dick didn’t look totally convinced, but Bruce knew by overdoing it, his protégé would be even more onto their trail. Dick turned away chuckling, and called over his shoulder, “Tell Alfred that I’m heading out.”

~*~

It was later that night in Gotham, and he was on his date. He and Elizabeth had an enjoyable evening at a concert, however afterwards while eating their meal at one of the finest restaurants in Gotham, Bruce found himself… listless. Elizabeth asked about the sculpture he had bought at the art gallery that they had visited during one of their dates last month. He gave her a brief normalised explanation, he didn’t speak about powers or the consequences of having no proof to charge someone with or his frustration over the so many times that had happened over the years, so nothing of his real self, his real life. He told her about the donation to Centennial Park. She was impressed with his generosity. He didn’t tell her that the bequest was only for the sake of pranking his best friend.

It was a mistake, because from that moment that his best friend entered his mind, he wouldn’t leave. Bruce smiled and nodded along, to whatever Elizabeth was telling him about. All he could think about was how much he would rather be hanging out with Clark. That had been true since the day they met each other and worked together that first time, sharing his real self. His dates were for the sake of his façade, as well has satisfying basic urges. He didn’t detest them, yet he was always aware he could be doing something more interesting. 

He remembered weeks ago, Clark confiding his drought in that area. He remembered the intimacy that Bruce had shared with him since then, this afternoon even. He remembered telling Dick that Clark had had his turn this afternoon, or had he had his, he guessed it depended on how you looked at it. He also recalled their aborted lunch date, they did have lunch, and to some people what they did before that could be classified as a date. Yet, it wasn’t a date, as Bruce knew them. A date was something considerably less than the connection that he had always had with Clark.

Finally, Elizabeth realised his preoccupation and asked, “Is something wrong Bruce?”

His gaze took her in, she was gorgeous and smart and she was satisfying in bed but he couldn’t make himself care beyond that. He smiled, and he admitted, “I just realised I’m supposed to be somewhere else.”

Perplexed, she tilted her head, and glanced around the half eaten food on their plates. “But…”

He stood up, and he leaned over and he kissed her cheek, “Stay and have some dessert, and some wine. Put it on the bill.”

Then he headed for the cloakroom. As he slipped on his overcoat, he spoke to the head waiter, “The lady at my table can have anything she wants. Get her a cab when she leaves.”

“Very well Mr Wayne.” He said professionally.

Bruce nodded along pleased that his instructions would be carried out, and then he headed out. He got his keys from the valet and then he set off, and drove to Metropolis.

~*~

He got to Clark’s apartment door but hesitated before knocking. He remembered that time he came here, when he’d let himself in. He remembered touching his best friend as he slept. He remembered Clark’s body arching for his touch. He remembered Clark’s body arching for his touch just today. While he was lost in the memory, the door was opened, and his friend stood before him.

Clark was casually dressed. He cocked his head, and said casually, “I thought you had a date?”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

His friend’s brow creased at his formality, and he stepped back, and motioned him in, “Of course, come in.”

Bruce stepped over the threshold, and Clark teased, “You didn’t become a vampire tonight did you?”

He chuckled, “No, not tonight.”

Clark snorted with amusement. He closed the door behind him. He took off his glasses, which Bruce knew he must’ve just slipped on to answer the door. Then he offered, “You want something to eat?”

He removed his overcoat and hanged it up on the coatrack near the door. “I shouldn’t I’ve just left a perfectly good meal on the table.” he said as he took a seat on his friend’s couch.

His friend’s eyes narrowed and then he asked, “Your date, you left during dinner?”

He told his best friend the truth as always, “I realised I’d rather be here with you.”

Clark shook his head subtly, but didn’t ask what he meant. He turned towards the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “So you didn’t finish your dinner…” he got a Tupperware box out of the refrigerator, and popped it in the microwave, and set it going.

His friend turned and explained, “Just some pasta.”

Bruce replied, “Thanks.”

Bruce glanced at the muted TV in the corner absently. The noise of the microwave filled the air between them. Bruce teased, “I’m surprised you even have a microwave oven.”

His friend’s brow creased minutely, “Conformity I guess; everyone has one.”

When the microwave dinged, Clark got the box out, and tipped the warm pasta and sauce onto two plates. He came over, carrying a fork and passed Bruce his, then returned for his own and the salt pot. Then Clark seated himself on the couch next to him.

They tucked into their food, it wasn’t five Michelin stars, but it was nice and hearty. Bruce asked between bites, “Not busy tonight?”

Clark shrugged, “Not at the moment, was going to do a patrol later but…”

He cringed a little, of course, it was a bit early, it was always later at night when Superman came a calling usually, or maybe that was just to accommodate Batman’s schedule. His gaze found his friend, and he studied him, and wondered if that assessment was accurate. As if sensing his attention, Clark glanced up with his mouth full of food. He frowned, and chewed, and then asked, “What?”

His mind segued and he asked the question that had just popped into his mind, “You enjoy eating?”

“Well duh.” Clark chuckled, “Of course.”

He knew that Clark always acted as though he enjoyed Alfred’s efforts, “But you don’t need to do you?” he asked interestedly.

Clark squinted at him. “You got your scientist head on again?” he chuckled, and reached over to the coffee table for the salt pot.

Bruce watched Clark’s broad back arch, saw the play of muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. Automatically, he put his fork down on his plate and reached out, and traced his spine. Clark squirmed, and glanced over his shoulder at him. “What’re you doing?” 

“I don’t really know.” He answered truthfully.

His best friend licked his lips, and uttered, “Experimenting on me again?”

“I like seeing your reactions.” he confessed quietly.

Clark gazed down at his plate, and then sat back on the couch again. They continued eating until their plates were cleared. Bruce said, “Thanks that hit the spot.”

His friend took the plates to the sink, before returning. He watched him sit down. He watched him gaze across at nothing on the other side of the room, yet it wasn’t nothing that he looked at, he knew it was the empty space in front of the window where they had shared a great intimacy. He watched him swallow hard before a fleeting smile touched his lips. He watched him turn towards him but not all the way. He watched his eyelashes flutter as he blinked rapidly. Then finally, Clark asked, “What are we doing Bruce?”

“Sitting on your couch.” he answered.

Clark sniggered, “Smart ass.”

He smiled in response. 

His friend made the complete turn, his crooked knee sideways on the couch and met his gaze. 

He held it.

It was Clark who spoke first, “We keep doing things together.”

“We do.”

Clark rolled his eyes, and laid the side of his head against the back of the couch. “Now isn’t the time to be laconic.”

“It’s the way I am.”

“I know, but not when it comes to mysteries, Mister Detective.”

He rested his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers almost touching Clark’s raven hair and he began, “The facts of the case are that despite what we’ve done, my feelings for you are the same, they haven’t changed.”

“I sort of understand that. Okay so why do we keep doing… those things?” Clark wondered.

“Because physical contact…”

“Sexual contact.” Clark amended.

He grinned. “Okay, sexual contact between us is extremely pleasurable.” he confessed.

He saw a light flush come to Clark’s cheeks as he agreed, “Yes it is.”

“Yes it is.” he echoed.

He watched as Clark bit his lip gently. Bruce reached out and caressed it with his thumb. Clark locked gazes with him. Bruce shook his own head, and he leaned in, and kissed his best friend’s lips. Clark’s hand came up, and cupped his face, his thumb stroked Bruce’s jaw as he returned the kiss. 

The kiss ended slowly and they pulled back minutely. Clark’s thumb continued to caress his jaw. Bruce’s eyes were heavy lidded, he felt comfortable, sleepy almost, but so alive, he whispered almost secretively, to the only man who might know how he was feeling. “Clark I feel the same way about you that I always have, nothing’s changed.”

Clark flashed a bright grin, before he asked quietly, “You mean we’ve loved each other all along?”

It was like a veil lifting from his eyes, and he nodded, “I guess we must have been.”

His best friend leaned in and caught his mouth, and kissed him.

After a moment, Bruce pushed him back, and questioned him, “Did you know already?”

Clark asked with an arched brow, “You think I knew that I loved you all this time, but only now persuaded you to be my boyfriend?” 

He tilted his head inquisitively.

Clark revealed, “I didn’t know that I wanted you until we kissed each other in your living room.” 

“Not when I kissed you that first time?”

His best friend shook his head and denied, “It wasn’t good Bruce.” at the disgruntled look that Bruce gave him, Clark chuckled and soothed, “It was better when you tried again.”

He had to concede, “It was.”

Clark smiled shyly, “I didn’t begin to realise that I loved you like that until I thought…”

In sync as always, he finished the sentence, “Until you thought Lois and I were…”

“Yeah.”

“You were jealous?”

Clark nodded. 

He vowed. “Oh Clark, you don’t have to be because my feelings for you will never change, they’ll always be the same.” 

“Mine too.”

 

The end


End file.
